


I CAN ASSURE EVERYONE, I AM PERFECTLY MENTALLY STABLE

by WizardGlick



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Crack Treated Seriously, Cults, Dark Academia, F/M, Humor, Mephistopheles has ADHD, Mephistopheles is a virgo, Necromancy, Parody, Sarcasm, Self-Indulgent, Suspension Of Disbelief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25386385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardGlick/pseuds/WizardGlick
Summary: [Dark academia AU/affectionate parody, crack taken seriously and played 100% straight]"Sock took a deep breath. 'I accidentally joined a cult because I sorta thought it was a joke but it turns out it wasn't a joke and I told them about your book and now they're out for your blood and won't rest until one of them kills you. Sorry.''What?' Mephistopheles stared blankly at Sock, certain that one of them had snapped. Probably him. 'I'm sorry, what?'"
Relationships: Mephistopheles/Providence (Welcome to Hell)
Kudos: 5





	1. I - We've Only Just Begun

**Author's Note:**

> The real reason why I wrote this is a veeery loong story that can be conveniently distilled down to "I wrote this for my friend Cade."
> 
> Anyway, this fandom needs more Mephistopheles content and weird, off the wall shit.
> 
> This is an ADHD plot, which is that thing where you take an idiot plot and shift it so that instead of the MC being an idiot, he just has a really nasty case of undiagnosed, untreated ADHD which happens to drive the conflict.
> 
> Content warnings: Light roasting of PhD holders, new age hippies, espresso culture, and academia.

Rain pattered against the single pane windows, mingling with the scratching of pencils against paper and the odd sigh of frustration from one of the 34 university students currently sitting for their Philosophy of Religion midterm.

Mephistopheles (legal name strictly undisclosed), doctorate of Philosophy, sat back in his chair and tried not to scream.

His TA, Sock (name tenuously abstracted from his surname "Sowachowski"), sat beside him, rhythmically tossing a cheap plastic Bic into the air and catching it in the palm of his hand.

The silence was maddening. Mephistopheles ran a hand through his ruthlessly gelled bangs, checked the clock, made a face. Only half an hour had passed since the exam had begun.

He spun his chair back toward the desk, wincing when it shattered the silence with an irritated creak. The desk chair, much like everything else in Old Main (including the building itself), should have been replaced about ten years ago.

Cautiously, Mephistopheles leaned forward toward the desk. The chair lurched with another banshee squeal.

Sock laughed quietly, covering his mouth with his hand. Studiously ignoring this, Mephistopheles picked up the book lying face down on the desk and stared at it in the vain hopes some of the words would penetrate his brain.

The book had been an impulse buy, largely encouraged by his girlfriend (his word, not hers). At this point, he should have known that she was useless as a form of impulse control; in fact she liked to encourage him to see how far he would go.

Last weekend they had gone antiquing and Mephistopheles had spotted  _ The Layman's Guide to Necromancy _ among some old instructions booklets, all piled up in a box labeled "99¢."

"What do you think?" he'd asked, holding it up. "Should I quit my job and start over as a sorcerer?"

"Don't even write your two-weeks' notice," she'd said, smiling conspiratorially at him 

So he'd bought it, dumped it in the main pocket of his shoulder bag, and forgotten about it until today, when the boredom of the silent classroom drove him to desperation.

_ The Layman's Guide to Necromancy  _ was a fitting find for a town like Tekile. Founded in the 1850s by John Mason, the man who would later give his name to Mason University, Tekile quickly gained a reputation as a hotbed for the supernatural. The first few inhabitants dropped like flies, usually from drowning in the notoriously fast-moving Glass River or freezing to death in the mountain snowstorms so frequent in the area.

The pioneer cemetery at the edge of downtown had become a prime destination for budding ghost hunters, and most local shops had nazar amulets for sale alongside large chunks of quartz crystals and perfumey bundles of cleansing herbs.

Mephistopheles, despite his infernal appellation, never really gave much quarter to the supernatural except as a classroom debate topic. To him,  _ The Layman's Guide to Necromancy  _ was nothing more than a novelty.

He stared at the first page, mind filling with radio static. The type was tiny, so tiny it had him squinting and wondering if he might need reading glasses. He lifted the book closer to his face, wary of the fact that he couldn't quite keep an eye on his students like this.

Sock's Bic clattered to the floor and rolled away. Mephistopheles pinned it in place with the toe of his black leather loafer and kicked it back to Sock, who was staring at him like he'd just grown demon horns.

The kid had always been a little fruitcakey, so Mephistopheles shrugged it off and returned to his book.

When the exam was over, Mephistopheles gathered up half the blue books, passed the others to Sock, and made for his office, all the while not really paying attention to what he was doing. His mind was firmly fixed on one goal: to get as much caffeine into his system as possible as quickly as possible.

"I thought  _ I _ was proctoring this exam," Sock said, taking two steps to every one of Mephistopheles'.

"Yeah, well, my schedule cleared up." Mephistopheles kept his eyes fixed straight ahead. Sock didn't need to know the details.

"Weren't you supposed to go to lunch with your girlfriend?" Oh, right. Sock  _ did  _ know the details.

"She's not my girlfriend," Mephistopheles answered, looking down at Sock.

Sock’s brow furrowed. "But I thought--"

"She's not my girlfriend."

Stopping outside his office door, Mephistopheles fished his keys out of his pocket and managed to unlock it without dropping the pile of blue books pressed to his chest.

As soon as the door was shut, he dumped the whole pile of paperwork onto a chair and made a lunge for the shiny silver Breville Barista Express that took up a good quarter of his desk. It came to life and began to squeal and grind as it worked.

They had to speak in raised voices in order to be heard over the obnoxious whine of the espresso machine. Sock was well used to it by this point.

"I have a question," he shouted. The grinding noise stopped.

"Can you keep your voice down, please? This is a place of learning, for God's sake." Mephistopheles began an elaborate maneuver involving more buttons and not one, but two frothing pitchers. This was accompanied by more screaming from the espresso machine.

Sock, who had never been particularly receptive to sarcasm, ignored the quip. "Why don't you just get a Keurig?" he asked.

"I like turning all the fancy dials.  _ That _ was your question?"

"What? No. Um, I was wondering about that book you were reading."

"Oh, yeah.  _ How to Lay a Necromancer  _ or whatever it's called."

" _ The Layman's Guide to Necromancy _ ," Sock corrected with surprising acuity.

"Yeah, sure." Mephistopheles punched one last button on the Barista Express and it began to dispense espresso with an ear-wrenching shrieking noise.

"Where did you get it?" Sock asked.

"I went antiquing last weekend. What’s it to you?”

"Where?" Sock demanded.

"Uh, downtown? Where else do you think I got a book about necromancy? Some hippie probably got sick of the bad spirits in it and dropped it off on their way to buy more incense, you know how people are here." Mephistopheles winced at his own irreverence. While Sock had nothing on the locals who meditated naked in moonlit crystal fields and drank rain water straight from the barrel, he  _ did _ believe in spirits.

It had come up in class enough times that Mephistopheles had a pretty good idea of where Sock stood in regards to metaphysics and all that hippie nonsense. Plus, the nazar keychain on his backpack was a pretty good indicator. Whoops.

Sock, thankfully, did not seem offended. "Huh," he said, frowning thoughtfully. Then he smiled and gestured to the pile of blue books. "Do you need any help grading these?"

"Ugh, right  _ now? _ " Mephistopheles asked. "I wasn't even going to start until Friday. Nah, go ahead and get going. I'm sure you have midterms to study for."

"Yeah," said Sock, making a face. " _ Yours. _ "

Mephistopheles grinned at him. "Like you won't get the highest grade in the class. And don't even think about stealing my master copy of the essay questions."

"Well, I wasn't before, but I am now!" Sock's eyes were wide. "Are they in here? Can I have a hint?"

Mephistopheles just laughed and opened up his office door. "Get going, kid."

\--

They were half a bottle of Two Buck Chuck into the evening and things were starting to get hazy.

"Providence," he said softly, his head on her shoulder. It wasn’t her name, but he never called her anything else. She laughed and pushed him off. He fell against the couch's backrest and looked at her with pleading eyes. "Don't make me go to work tomorrow. I just want to stay here with you. Forever."

"Poor baby," she said. Her hoop earrings caught the candlelight and sparkled hypnotically. He stared at them, momentarily transfixed.

"I have to be there at 7:00!" he said. "The  _ sun's _ not even up at 7:00."

"That's what happens in winter." She leaned over and took the wineglass from him, setting it on the glass-topped coffee table with a tidy  _ click _ . 

Providence's rental looked like something out of a magazine for hobbyists with too much money and eccentric tastes. Mephistopheles knew most of her furniture was thrifted, but she took such good care of it that it looked new. Even the dents and scratches seemed to fade away under her care.

He looked at her and sighed, utterly smitten. They both knew they were playing a dangerous game, mixing two personalities as volatile as theirs. They were both "all or nothing" types and they cycled frequently between the two at a speed that made Mephistopheles' head spin. Sometimes, he pissed her off on purpose just to hear her confirm all his worst thoughts about himself. Sometimes, she pushed him away just to see if he'd come back.

This was not one of those nights. 

"How's your necromancy career coming along?" Providence asked. "Have you amassed an army of the undead yet?"

Mephistopheles shook his head. "I'm still working through the instruction manual. Look at this thing!" He had come straight to her house from campus, and his shoulder bag lay in a heap by the door. He retrieved  _ The Layman's Guide to Necromancy _ and showed it to her.

"Tell me the font is tiny," he said. "Tell me I don't need reading glasses."

"No, it is tiny," she said, squinting at it. Then she looked at him. "I think you would look nice in glasses."

"Really?"

She leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. "I do. I think you'd look very distinguished."

He smiled and she kissed him again. He wrapped his arms around her.


	2. II - Goodbye to Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the plot starts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyooo I'm naming all these chapters after Carpenters songs because I just started listening to them and I'm in love
> 
> Content Warnings: Abstract mentions of violence, also I use the word "psycho" but in reference to the movie, not as a derogatory term

"Can I talk to you?" Sock hurried over to Mephistopheles' side.

Mephistopheles unlocked his office door. Sock looked unusually frantic, almost guilty. "Uh, sure?" Mephistopheles said, curiosity piqued. "How long were you standing outside my office?"

"It's not important," Sock said. He sat down in the sole chair that wasn't covered in papers and textbooks, setting his backpack by his feet. The nazar keychain gleamed in the lamplight.

"Oh-kay?" Mephistopheles cleared a pile of blue books off his battered desk chair and, finding no empty surfaces, set them on the floor. Then he sat down behind his desk and frowned at Sock. "What's wrong?"

"Well," said Sock. His nervous, feral wolf smile did not reach his eyes. "Well…"

"C'mon, spit it out," Mephistopheles said. If it had been any other student, he would have expected some sort of dramatic confession about cheating or substance abuse, but this was  _ Sock _ . Sock didn't do anything harder than Pixy Stix and Monster, and he certainly had no cause to cheat.

Sock took a deep breath. "I accidentally joined a cult because I sorta thought it was a joke but it turns out it wasn't a joke and I told them about your book and now they're out for your blood and won't rest until one of them kills you. Sorry."

"What?" Mephistopheles stared blankly at Sock, certain that one of them had snapped. Probably him. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Well, when I was a Freshman, there was--"

"No-no-no-no-no, go back to the 'out for my blood' part, please." Mephistopheles still wasn't quite convinced this wasn't some coffee-fueled hallucination, but if his psyche was trying to tell him something in the form of his TA, he figured he should address the scary part first.

"Oh, yeah, a bunch of guys are gonna come try to kill you," Sock said.

"Because of a  _ book _ ?" Mephistopheles almost-shouted. Unfortunately, what Sock was saying made perfect sense for a town like Tekile. Even the murder part made sense in the context of new age religious zeal.

"I'm sorry!" Sock said, tugging at the earflaps of the gaudy trapper hat he always wore. "I didn't know!"

Mephistopheles got up and double-checked that his door was locked. Then he sat back down and stared at Sock. Then he stood back up and triple-checked the door was locked. Then he sat down again. "So is this a joke or what? You joining a frat or something?" he asked in desperation.

"It's not a joke!" Sock insisted. "They call themselves the Laymen after the book, and I thought it was, you know, like a Dead Poet's Society thing? I didn't think they were  _ serious _ . Everybody knows you can’t bring ghosts back to corporeal form.”

"Uh-huh," said Mephistopheles. White noise filled his head, gentle pressure on his temples.

"They're always going off about how they have the only copy of  _ Layman's Guide _ so when I mentioned you had one, I thought they'd find it interesting. I didn't think they'd go all Psycho on you."

"Wait, do they know where I live?" Mephistopheles demanded.

"Okay, well maybe Psycho wasn't the right reference," Sock conceded.

"So nobody is going to stab me in the shower?"

"I didn't say  _ that _ ."

Mephistopheles sighed. "And you're not messing with me?"

"Nope." Sock shook his head. "I do have some good news!"

"They're going to do it quickly?" Mephistopheles asked, wary of getting his hopes up.

"Well, no. But they just think you're trying to, like, take over their territory. So if you give the book back, they won't have any reason to think of you as a threat."

Mephistopheles dived for his book bag. "Then take it! Jesus Christ, Sock, why didn't you lead with that?"

"Context?" Sock offered up sheepishly while Mephistopheles turned his bag inside out.

He pawed through his various papers and personal effects with increasing anxiety, as  _ The Layman's Guide to Necromancy _ failed to manifest. Where was it? Frantic, he turned the whole bag upside down. Papers and pens spilled onto the worn carpeting in a deluge, loose change, lip balm tubes, his keys, a phone charger.

Nearly hyperventilating, he looked through every single paper and checked the newly-emptied main compartment again.

The book was simply nowhere to be found.

"I  _ lost _ it?" Mephistopheles asked the universe. " _ I lost it _ ?"

Sock watched him with wide green eyes. "It's okay! We can…" He tugged at his hat. "Where was the last place you had it?"

Mephistopheles tried to think. "My girlfriend's house! That's where it is!"

"I thought she wasn't your girlfriend," Sock said, face scrunching up in puzzlement.

"She's not." Mephistopheles checked his watch and his heart sank. It was only half-past nine. Providence would be proctoring a midterm exam of her own over in the Science building.

"Are you going to go?" Sock demanded. "This isn't the kind of thing that can wait."

"I don't have a key." Mephistopheles sat back on his heels and surveyed the contents of his shoulder bag, now scattered all over his office floor. Leaving everything, he stood up. He was halfway to the door when he remembered to grab his keys. He stood up again, then knelt back down, scooped everything back into his bag, grabbed it, and stood up again. "Come with me."

Sock jogged along behind him, unable to keep pace with Mephistopheles' long, rapid strides. "Where are we going?"

"Science building. Less talking, more walking."

They exited Old Main and burst onto the cement pathway. The near-constant winter rain had let up, but the low-hanging gray clouds blotting out the sun threatened more in the near future.

With Sock trailing along like a duckling, Mephistopheles threw himself through the Science building doors and made a beeline for Providence's favorite classroom.

He paused in the hallway to catch his breath.

"Is that her?" Sock asked in between gasps for air.

"Yeah." Mephistopheles straightened up and softly opened the door. Providence looked up, her expression fading from curiosity to concern.

She came over to the door. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

"I need your house keys," Mephistopheles whispered back. Every nerve in his body was alight with panic, choking out his attempts to craft an explanation.

She frowned, her gaze traveling up and down his body. "That's an emergency?"

"Just. Come here for a second."

"No!" she hissed. “This is incredibly inappropriate.”

"Sock will watch your class."

Sock waved.

"Fine." Providence came out into the hall and crossed her arms. "Okay, what's so important it couldn't wait two hours?"

"I need your house keys,” Mephistopheles said again. Still unable to think of a way to distill the situation down to a short but believable explanation, he added, “It's a long story."

"Meph, we've talked about this,” Providence said, clearly irritated. She was right, they had. Mephistopheles had some clingy, paranoid tendencies that reared up from time to time.

"No, no,” he said, “I'm not trying to 'disrespect your boundaries' or whatever--"

"'Or whatever'?" she repeated incredulously.

Mephistopheles winced. "I didn't mean— Can I  _ please _ just have your keys? I'll explain later."

"You can't just come bursting into my classroom for no reason! I thought there was an emergency!" Her voice rose from a whisper to a shout and she caught herself. "We're not doing this right now."

"But--"

"No." She turned away, one hand on the doorknob. "Just. Give me some space, okay?" She went back into the classroom.

Mephistopheles backed up until he hit the opposite wall, staring blankly at the door. How had he fucked up  _ this _ badly?

A moment later, Sock came out. "Did you get the keys?" he asked, voice bright and innocent.

Mephistopheles ignored him. "I'm such an idiot." He turned around and started to walk away, not wanting Providence to see him hovering around her door after she'd just told him to leave her alone. "Fuck!" So not  _ only _ was his life in danger, now the love of his life was mad at him, and not without reason. “Fuck,” he said again.

"So no house keys?" Sock asked, trailing along behind him.

"Nope!" Mephistopheles said, shoving all the breath in his lungs into that one word, so that it came out as more of a sigh. "I think you and I need to have a talk."

"About what?" Sock asked, face aglow with faux-innocence.

"Well, lately I've noticed your grades have been slipping— About your friends who are coming to  _ kill _ me! Do they have a plan?"

"They're not really my friends," Sock said.

"Oh,  _ I'm _ sorry." Mephistopheles made a face. "Can we focus, please?"

"I'm sorry," Sock said. He sounded genuine. "I really did  _ not _ know they actually believed in…" He waved his hands. "I thought it was just an excuse to tell ghost stories and drink in the woods!" Seeing Mephistopheles' expression, he quickly added, "Soda. Drink soda in the woods. Far away from campus."

"Uh-huh."

"Anyway, I'm going to quit."

"No!" A wave of fear seized Mephistopheles' heart. "You can't quit! You're my guy on the inside! You gotta help me not get stabbed in the shower."

Sock looked around. "Hey, where are you taking me?"

"Huh?" Mephistopheles looked up. They were in the upper parking lot, heading for a residential area. "I was just walking." He sighed and dragged both hands down his face. "Providence won't even talk to me. What am I gonna do, Sock?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Sock asked. A sage pause. "You have to break into her house."

Mephistopheles stared down at Sock. There was no question that the kid was deeply weird, but this was next-level. "Sock. I can't break into my girlfriend's house."

Sock looked strangely put out. "Because it's illegal?"

"No, I mean I literally can't do it; I don't know how."

"You can't just take the window pane out?"

"Explain to me exactly how I take a window pane out."

Sock thought for a second. "I dunno, you just take the thing and… Um."

"Yeah, thought so." Mephistopheles was not impressed.

"Just Google it," Sock said.

"Fine. But I need you to stall your little occultist friends, okay? And find out what their plan is."

"Okay," said Sock. He tugged at the hem of his sweater vest. "Sorry again that I accidentally got you put on a hit list."

Mephistopheles just shrugged. "Shit happens, Sock. Shit happens."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to say, hmu on Tumblr at OurLordApollo if you wanna talk about W2H


	3. III - Solitaire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all remember how I said Meph has ADHD and it drives the plot? Yeah.
> 
> Content warnings: A brief, mild injury that draws blood, more vague and abstract mentions of violence, paranoia

For the occasion of breaking into his not-girlfriend's house, Mephistopheles had planned everything down to the letter.

He had painstakingly researched various types of windows and how to open them, purchased a full set of Stanley screwdrivers, and double-checked his old text messages from Providence to make sure she would be at the school while he was breaking into her house.

All these plans, Mephistopheles scrawled down in a brand new Officemax notebook with a picture of frolicking puppies on the cover.

He realized halfway into the two-mile walk to Providence's rental that he'd forgotten it on the kitchen counter.

Mephistopheles had penned countless papers on philosophical concepts ranging from the obscure to the comical. He was the youngest PhD on the payroll at Mason University and widely respected in his field despite his relative youth. His work had been featured in highbrow literary journals and pop philosophy listicles alike. Mephistopheles, the shining star of Mason U's philosophy department, said, "Fuck."

His bad luck did not abate upon stepping over Providence's garden gate and circling around the back of her house.

Providence was first and foremost a botanist and had a special love for gardening. Flowerbeds and bushes surrounded her house, calendulas and jasmine. This time of year, the bushes were all dead. Only their stems remained: ugly, gnarled things that jutted out of the earth like misshapen hands.

One of these bushes stood just outside Providence's bedroom window, and Mephistopheles managed to not only tear his sleeve on it, but cut a few deep gouges into his forearm.

He ignored the sudden, burning pain in favor of haphazardly stabbing at the window frame with one of his screwdrivers. A few flakes of white paint chipped off and fluttered to the ground. Raindrops began to fall, tympanic ensemble.

Mephistopheles sighed and pressed his forehead against the grimy siding on Providence's house. Blood snaked down his arm and dripped into the dirt.

\--

The act of making espresso, some would say, was an art. There was a certain beauty to the process, to the familiar dance that yielded something far greater than the sum of its parts.

The act of finding balanced extraction, walking that wire between conceding too much and taking too greedily, was an act of zen for the modern man. Yes, a well-brewed espresso, steaming in its elegant little demitasse, was a work of art.

Mephistopheles' preferred method of consuming espresso was to brew it as fast as possible, wait for it to cool, and throw it back like a shot so he didn't have to taste it. 

"Did you get it?" Sock burst in without knocking, as was his wont. It was always funny to hear him slam into the wood when the door was locked.

Mephistopheles didn't so much as flinch. "No, Sock, I don't have it. What I  _ do _ have is a bill from the urgent care and brand new tetanus antibodies."

"What?" Sock stared at him.

"It didn't work, okay?"

"Uh oh," said Sock.

"Why 'uh oh'?" Mephistopheles demanded, half-rising.

"You know Julius Caesar?" Sock asked.

Unphased by the non sequitur, Mephistopheles just raised an eyebrow and sat back down. "Not personally, no."

"No, I mean. " Sock lifted his arm and made a stabbing gesture. "You know Julius Caesar?"

"What are you getting at, Sowachowski?" Mephistopheles asked. Sock repeated the stabbing gesture. Mephistopheles had to resist the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. "When? Where?"

"I don't know!" Sock squeaked. "I kept asking and they kept telling me to let them take care of it."

"Alrighty, Sock." Mephistopheles turned on his school-issued computer, strangely calm. The computer ran Windows 8 at a glacial pace and frequently whirred so loud it sounded like it would explode. Mephistopheles took care of it by never shutting it down and always having at least 10 tabs open at any given time. "Pick a place."

"Um, Australia."

"Mm, no, not Australia. Too sunny."

"Iceland?" Sock tried. "Is there a right answer?"

Mephistopheles didn't answer the question. "Iceland is good."

"What are you doing?" Sock shuffled over and peered at Mephistopheles' monitor.

"I just remembered, it's my life's ambition to go backpacking in Iceland."

"You can't!" Sock cried, right in Mephistopheles' ear. He winced. Sock continued, "Who else is going to give me As on all my papers even though I don't study?"

"You don't study? Sock, you're in a 400-level philosophy class and you don't study?"

Sock stared at him with wide eyes. In the low light of Mephistopheles' desk lamp, his pupils dominated, leaving only a thin ring of verdant iris visible. "Hm?"

"You just told me you don't study for my class."

"No, I didn't." Mephistopheles raised his eyebrows but Sock did not budge an inch. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Fine, I'll drop it." Mephistopheles closed the Alaska Airlines webpage he had just opened. "What am I supposed to do, then?"

Sock cocked his head. "You could apologize."

"To the cult?"

"No, to your girlfriend. What was her name?"

"Providence."

Sock accepted this without question. "You could apologize to Providence."

"Here's the thing." Mephistopheles sighed and slumped over so he could rest his elbows on his desk. "She asked me to leave her alone."

"So?"

" _ So _ , when someone gets upset at you for violating a boundary, you probably shouldn't violate more boundaries in your attempt to apologize."

Sock considered this. "Do you think she would be more or less upset if you got Ides of March-ed by a gang of 20-somethings armed with kitchen knives?"

Mephistopheles shuddered. " _ You _ could sound a little more worried."

"I  _ said _ I was sorry." Sock spread his arms, palms facing upward.

"Okay, okay, okay." Mephistopheles thought for a moment. "Can you at least tell me what these freaks look like so I know who to avoid?"

"Well…" said Sock, "there's a bunch of them."

"That's very helpful, thank you. I'll just avoid crowds of people for the foreseeable future."

Sock frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe you  _ should _ take a sabbatical."

"Can you at  _ least _ point them out next time you see one?"

"Yeah, I can do that!"

"Good. That's a start." Mephistopheles opened up a new tab. His ancient computer whirred in frustration. "In the meantime, I'll start looking into business casual Kevlar."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to say earlier, come find me on Tumblr at OurLordApollo if you wanna talk!


	4. IV - Calling All Occupants of Interplanetary Craft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be completely honest, I have no idea what the "chapter summary" field is for or where that info even shows up.
> 
> Content Warnings: paranoia, another reference to the movie Psycho, drinking, I dunk on hippies a little bit

The Tekile Food Co-op had a new display of healing crystals right by the checkout line, where normal grocery stores had gum and batteries. Mephistopheles stared into a shiny quartz sphere and tried not to think about Providence. She  _ loved  _ the Co-op.

The checkout line moved slowly; the cashier was not a fast worker and employed most of their energy chatting with the shoppers. The quartz sphere caught the overhead lights and gleamed alluringly, playing to that basic reptilian reflex that responded positively to objects reminiscent of water.

Mephistopheles  _ told _ himself he didn't believe in all that spiritual stuff, but as he gazed into that crystal ball, he couldn't help but feel that the vibrations of the universe were centering on his being. Calling to him.

No, wait, that was just his phone vibrating in his pocket. Someone  _ was _ calling him, but it wasn't the universe. It was Providence.

He swiped to answer the call, all the while wondering if he shouldn't answer. He was  _ busy _ after all, and it was  _ rude _ to talk on the phone in public--

"Hello?" he said. Not able to resist a sarcastic quip, he added, "Have my transgressions been forgiven?"

"Don't push it," she said.

"Hey, I'm in line at the Co-op. Do you need a quartz sphere for anything?"

"Yes, so I can throw it at you next time you interrupt my class during an exam."

"You're still mad about that, huh?" he asked rhetorically.

"Don't worry, you can explain yourself tomorrow."

"Yes,  _ ma'am. _ "

"Save it."

"Sorry. What's the plan?"

"Commons at noon."

He wrinkled his nose. "But that's where the  _ students  _ are."

"That's  _ also _ where the really good bagels are."

"Fine, fine," he sighed. "Okay, see you then."

"Bye."

She hung up. He put his phone away and, after a moment's thought, set the quartz sphere on the belt with the rest of his groceries.

"You shouldn't talk on the phone in public," said the woman in line behind him. Mephistopheles braced himself for a lecture on privacy, but she continued, "EMFs affect everyone, not just you." He stared at her. "And you want fluorite, not quartz."

"I'll take that into consideration," he said.

The line inched forward.

\--

The Commons was loud, crowded, and frequently sticky. Mephistopheles  _ hated _ it. He vastly preferred the quietude and privacy of his office, where he could work undisturbed (except for occasional visits from Sock). The low light of his desk lamp and the quiet companionship of his favorite books suited him much better than the constant background clamour of hungry and exhausted college students.

He did have to admit that Providence had a point about the bagels, though. And it was nice to have coffee that didn't make his tongue want to declare independence from the rest of his body. Why didn't those dumb little espresso demitasse cups have room for milk?

Providence had yet to arrive, so Mephistopheles found a wall to press his back up against while he sipped his lavender latte and kept an eye out for knife-wielding aspiring necromancers.

The past few days had been difficult. He had never been a particularly sound sleeper (much to Providence’s annoyance), but his insomnia had been almost intolerable these latest nights. It was  _ weird _ feeling unsafe on campus, weirder still knowing that any one of these fresh-faced adolescents could be hiding a knife in their bag and murderous intent in their heart.

Why couldn't they all be like Sock? Sock was a good kid, late-night romps in the woods aside. Sure, he was a little weird, but not "homicidal tendencies" weird.

Mephistopheles got so absorbed reflecting on this point that he almost didn't notice Providence walking up to him until they were nose-to-nose. Well, nose-to-chest. He had a good eight inches on her, give or take.

"You in there?" she said.

"Yep," he said, dragging his thoughts back in from the ether. The fog remained, as it often did-- Fuzzy thoughts, phantasmagorical reality. Exhaustion so thick it rested in the base of his neck and made all his joints achy and slow. He followed her to a booth, not even thinking to complain until he saw the light sheen of something inevitably sticky spilled across the tabletop.

"This place is a cesspool," he said.

"Don't put your elbows on the table," she advised him.

He ignored this bit of sage life advice and rolled up his sleeves to better dig around in the main pocket of his shoulder bag for the quartz sphere he'd stashed in there. The damn thing was  _ heavy _ .

"I bought you something," he said by way of explanation.

"What happened to your arm?" Providence asked him, leaning across the table to take a better look at the angry red scratches.

Mephistopheles stiffened for a moment, then continued digging through his bag. "Bear attack," he said. "It was all over the news; I'm surprised you haven't heard about it." He found the palm-sized crystal and presented it to Providence with a flourish. "Here, I bought you this. Please don't throw it at me."

"Don't interrupt me when I'm working and I won't have to," she said. She took the crystal and held it up to the light. "This is beautiful! I'll have to find a stand for it." She tucked it between the salt and pepper shakers so it wouldn't roll away, and stared expectantly at him. "So."

"So."

"Care to explain that little outburst?"

He looked at her, and then his attention was jerked to the left by the sudden appearance of Sock in his field of vision. He was waving frantically, beckoning.

"Um," said Mephistopheles, master wordsmith. He tried not to look at Sock but the kid was brighter than a macaw and waving like his life depended on it. Oh, shit. Maybe  _ Mephistopheles' _ life depended on it. "Uh," he said, all his thought processes grinding to a halt. He couldn't stop looking at Sock.

"You had a reason, right?" Providence prompted him. "You wouldn't just interrupt a midterm exam for no reason?"

"Right," he said. Sock dropped his arms to his side and started toward Mephistopheles and Providence in their sticky little booth.

Mephistopheles stood up. "I'll be right back! Please don't go anywhere." He strode over to meet Sock. "What--"

"That's them!" Sock hissed.

"Where?" Mephistopheles kept his eyes locked on Sock.

Sock stuck out his tongue in concentration. "Um, 10:00 o'clock."

Mephistopheles checked his watch. "Wait, which one of us is facing 12:00?"

"You."

Mephistopheles looked up and to the left. "Green backpack?"

"Yes."

Right away, it was obvious why Sock had had trouble describing them. The cultists looked like normal students, unremarkable in every conceivable way.

Mephistopheles looked at Sock. "You're  _ sure _ this isn't some elaborate prank? If you tell me right now, I won't be mad."

"It's not a prank!" Sock insisted.

"Yeah, I was afraid you'd say that." Mephistopheles tore his eyes away from the cultists and looked down at Sock. "You  _ really _ think they're capable of…? What makes them think they won't get caught?"

Sock shrugged. "I dunno. Do you  _ really _ want to test them? I told you, they really do think they can harness the power of," he put on a dramatic voice, " _ beyond the veil _ ."

Mephistopheles rolled his eyes. "Come on."

"That's really how they talk!" Sock said. "Anyway, what are you going to do? Did you get the book back?"

"Shit, Providence!" Mephistopheles looked back toward the booth, but it was empty. He checked his watch. "She has a class.  _ Fuck _ ! I never apologized either." Frantic, he dug his phone out of his pocket. She had sent him a short text: " _ Headed to class. What was that?" _

"Fuckin' A," said Mephistopheles, pocketing his phone again. "I need a scotch and soda, a lawyer, and a priest. In that order."

Sock checked his phone. "Hey, don't  _ we _ have a class to get to?"

"Nah, it's Wednesday." Mephistopheles looked at him. "Isn't it?"

"It's Tuesday."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Interesting."

\--

Mephistopheles was a clever man, a  _ bona fide _ adult with a fully developed prefrontal cortex and more than enough common sense to know that getting double-rainbowed on a Tuesday night would create more problems than it would solve.

On the other hand, he was also 88 percent sure he was going to die, and that could do a number on one's decision-making skills. He stopped by the liquor store to pick up a fifth of Jack Daniel's and some RC Cola, then headed home to get drunk in his tragic little apartment, with its minimalist color scheme and low ceilings.

He put on his favorite  _ Carpenters  _ album and flopped down on the leather couch, lukewarm Cuba Libre in hand. Already, his racing thoughts were beginning to melt away into sweet, dizzy incoherence. 

Just like that, he didn’t  _ care _ . He didn’t care that Providence was angry with him, he didn’t care that there was a cult out for his blood, he didn’t care that he had yet to grade a single midterm.

He worked his way through the bottle of Jack Daniels, intellectually aware that he should stop but too buzzed to listen to himself.

The night slipped away like water.

  
  


\--

He woke up the next morning disoriented and dizzy, alarm blaring, face pasted to the bathroom floor. He stood up, overbalanced, caught himself on the counter. Ah, yes.  _ This _ was what his higher judgment had been trying to prevent. He stumbled to the kitchen and silenced his phone, then noticed in succession that he had several calls and texts from Providence, and that the battery was about to die.

Right. He should plug his phone in and get ready for work. He should see what Providence wanted. He should have some water.

He wandered through his morning routine in a daze, unable to prioritize. He was halfway to his office when he remembered that Providence had tried to get in touch with him. Putting that on his mental list of tasks to handle later, he instead focused on getting to his office without passing out so he could re-familiarize himself with his lesson plan for the day. It took a surprise amount of concentration.

To his surprise, Providence was waiting for him outside his office door.

"Hey," he said, fumbling in his pocket for his keys.

She watched him struggle in silence for a moment, eyebrows raised. "Other pocket, hun."

"Oh." He leaned over, pressing his forehead into the wood as he unlocked the door. He let himself fall over the threshold, caught himself on the edge of his desk, and maneuvered into his chair with a spin that left his head whirling.

Providence came in behind him and locked the door. Looking dismayed, she poked at the leaves of the peace lily she'd bought him. "This is dusty."

"Sorry, I'll leave a note asking the custodians to wipe that down." It was a feeble attempt at sarcasm, but his head was pounding with such intensity that he could hardly think. He moved his keyboard aside and leaned over so he could rest his face on the desk. "So what brings you to my neck of the woods? If you want my whiteboard markers you'll have to pry them from my cold, dead hands."

She stood over him, one hand still on the peace lily, and surveyed him. "So you called me last night."

"I remember," he murmured into the desktop. It was only half a lie. He certainly had hazy memories of calling her, feeling he had something important to say that absolutely could not wait. He  _ also _ remembered crying over The Carpenters. He hoped those were two separate incidents.

It was quiet for a moment. Providence disappeared from his field of view and he heard her moving things around. Then she pulled up a chair and rested her chin on his desk so they were eye-to-eye. "Are you okay?" she asked.

He squinted at her. "I'm great. I'm just trying this new thing called 'desk yoga' and--"

"Mephistopheles." She made a face. "What you said to me on the phone last night was complete nonsense. But it was so,  _ so _ weirdly specific that I had to assume you either had a total paranoid breakdown or...“ She hesitated. "Or, you're being hunted by assassins. You can guess which conclusion I drew."

"Assassins?" Mephistopheles said hopefully.

"No."

"Well, you're not wrong." His cheekbone was starting to get sore, so he forced himself back up to a proper seated position. "Because it's  _ not _ assassins, it's a random group of superstitious students who want to Psycho me over that stupid necromancy book I bought."

Providence considered his. "Psycho?"

"You know." He made a stabbing gesture and mimicked the infamous violin stabs.

"They're going to stab you in the shower?"

"Maybe!" He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation.

"You're not making any sense." Providence looked at him with real concern in her eyes.

"Wait, wait, wait. You know how people in this town are. Would you believe that there's a group of students on campus that genuinely think they can do necromancy.  _ Actual _ necromancy, like raising the dead."

"Yes," she said, not hesitating.

And you know Sock, my TA? Li'l ginger kid, dumb hat?"

"Yes."

"Apparently his little friends thought they had the only copy of  _ The Layman's Guide to Necromancy _ . So when he saw that I had a copy, he told them about it. And, uh, now they think I'm a rival necromancer with designs on their, well, territory, so to speak. And I guess they want to kill me."

"And you're sure Sock isn't just messing with you?"

"To what end? I asked him multiple times. At this point, I don't see what he possibly has to gain by lying."

"Mm-hm." Providence thought for a moment. "Did you try talking to this little necromancy cult?"

"Did I what?" He stared at her.

She repeated, slowly, "Did you try explaining that it was a misunderstanding?"

"Well," he said, the unmistakable heat of a blush flooding his cheeks. "No."

"So," Providence said thoughtfully. "Just so we're clear, and basing this off what you said to me on the phone last night. Your  _ Plan A _ was to flee to Iceland?"

"Noooo," said Mephistopheles eloquently. "No-no-no. Plan A was to get  _ The Necromancer's Guide to Laying Men _ from you and give it  _ to  _ the weirdos to let them know that I'm not a threat."

Providence frowned. "What do you mean, 'get it from me'?"

Mephistopheles frowned also, the familiar feeling of dread creeping into his chest. "I left it at your house. I took it out to show it to you and then we… Well, I left it on your coffee table." He paused. "Didn't I?" he added in desperation.

She shook her head, looking strangely guilty. "No, I put it back in your bag before you left."

"But-- but--" Every synapse in Mephistopheles' hungover, dehydrated mind ceased. "But I checked…" he trailed off, helpless.

She leaned over and picked up his bag from the floor where he had unceremoniously dumped it. "It's right here." She unzipped one of the side pockets and held up  _ The Layman's Guide to Necromancy _ .

"But I…" Mephistopheles let his head fall to the desk, his forehead smacking it with a dull  _ thud _ . "I never use those pockets," he mumbled. "I never use those pockets, so I didn't check them because I  _ never use them, this whole time everything was for nothing--" _

"Sweetheart." Providence put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. Go find your TA."

"Oh, fuck!" Mephistopheles shot up from his desk. "I have class!"

"That polyester suit says otherwise," Providence said, but she was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fandom: Please!!! More Sockathan content!!! We can never get enough Sockathan!!!  
> Me, continuing to write more weird-ass Mephistopheles content: beat root? you want beat root?


	5. V - On Top of the World

It was a windy day. Gray clouds drifted across the sky at a rapid pace, occasionally allowing the sun to peek through and cast its golden rays upon the town of Tekile.

Despite this, winter's bite still filled the air. Mephistopheles and Providence sat in the warmth and comfort of Mason U's library cafe, holding hands across the table despite the occasional knowing looks from one of their students as they passed.

"I can't believe they didn't at least  _ try _ to kill me," Mephistopheles said.

Providence raised her eyebrows, an amused smile playing on her lips. "You wanted to get stabbed?"

"Well, no." Mephistopheles frowned. "But all that stress and nobody so much as pulled a knife on me? What was it all for?"

Providence made an expression of mocking surprise. It was not a face she made often and it did not suit her open, honest features. "You? Freaking out over something small?"

"Alright, alright." Mephistopheles took a sip of his latte, hiding his smile inside this seemingly innocuous action.

"I got you something," Providence said. "It's only fair, since you got me that quartz sphere."

"It's not like I'm keeping score," Mephistopheles said, trying not to frown. "Please tell me it's not one of those nazar things. I don't think I could handle having a disembodied eye staring at me all the time."

"It's not," Providence assured him. Over the table, she passed him a small, blue stone that had been carved into the shape of a heart.

He took it and examined it. The color was beautiful and clear, not a scratch to be seen. "Thank you? What, um. What is it?"

"It's angelite," she explained. "To help you calm down." A pause. "And develop psychic gifts."

"Psychic gifts, huh?"

"Well, since your necromancy career didn't pan out." He laughed and felt the tension of the past days drain away. He wanted to lean over the table and kiss her, but they were on campus and it wasn't appropriate; they could get in trouble with administration. Besides, kissing in public was kind of gross anyway, wasn’t it? The angelite stone was cool in his palm. He squeezed it. He leaned in. He kissed her.

She kissed back, a short sigh escaping through her nose.

"Hey, Providence?" he said, pulling back. She didn't respond well to "I love you" and he wasn't going to say it in so many words. But it was going to bother him forever if he didn't get it out at some point. "I'm sorry I interrupted your midterm exam. That wasn't appropriate--"

She pulled him by the collar and kissed him again, heedless of the other occupants of the cafe and their curious gazes.

"You're an idiot," she said when their lips parted again. "I'm glad you didn't get knife-murdered by a group of rogue students."

He looked at her and everything simply disappeared. "Me, too," he said. He sat back in his chair, suddenly afraid of getting too close to her. "I've got to get to class," he said.

She sat back also, and nodded. "See you tonight?"

"5:00 o'clock," he said.

She winked at him and he turned to go back to Old Main. He kept the angelite heart clenched in his hand, but as he approached the door, tucked it into his breast pocket.

For once, he was early, but Sock was earlier still. He hovered outside the classroom door, both hands tugging at the bottom of his sweater vest.

"Hi, Sock." Mephistopheles came forward to unlock the door. "You're here early."

"I was hoping to catch you," he said, following Mephistopheles inside. "I just wanted to say, I'm sorry again that I almost got you killed."

"It's okay," said Mephistopheles. "These past weeks, I've learned a lot about myself, and love, and the nature of the universe. Fearing for my life really put things in perspective for me. I've learned a valuable lesson from all this and I’ve decided to devote my remaining time here on Spaceship Earth to the service of others."

Sock cocked his head in surprise. "Really?"

"No," said Mephistopheles. "It's been Hell. I never want to go through anything like this ever again "

"Oh," said Sock. 

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but a few other students came in, so he took his usual seat.

Mephistopheles stood at the head of the room and leaned against the lectern. Students filed in, complaining about the workload and asking about their midterm results.

The blue books still lay in a pile in Mephistopheles' office, untouched. Mephistopheles caught Sock's eye and winked.

Finally, things were back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you this far in this weird little fic, thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Why, yes, I did attend college in a hippie little mountain town, why do you ask?


End file.
